


touch me like this (hold me like that)

by onlypartly (foreverkneeld)



Series: you build a fine shrine in me [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Bondage, Multi, Polyamory, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 02:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18401099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverkneeld/pseuds/onlypartly
Summary: Nicklas promised a reward if Ovi won the Rocket Richard again.





	touch me like this (hold me like that)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to nat @angularmomentum for chatting with me for two hours while i wrote this during work hours and to my wolfmama (tm wade kingsoftheimpossible) ovi for being Like That

Nastya takes Alex first - out at Ziba, dancing and public, sloppy kisses and sloppier laughing words of praise exchanged for the world to see. At home, in Alex’s enormous sprawling house, Nicke waits. He already told Liza he wouldn’t be back, probably, and she had smiled knowingly at him and said she had already made plans to Skype with Courtney.

Nicke is happy to stay in with Sergei. Happy to rock him to sleep after a bath and dinner and a bath again and sit with his book until two in the morning when Nastya comes in, supporting far more of Alex’s weight than should be possible for someone so slight.

“Nicke!” Alex crows, reaching for him. “Nicke! You here!”

“Yes, Alex.” Nicke says, patient. “I told you before, remember? After the game?”

Alex’s brows furrow, and Nicke can see him wading back through a sea of vodka to the end of the game. They’d lost, and Alex hadn’t scored, but Draisaitl hadn’t gotten more than a goal - the Rocket was safely Ovi’s. Again. Nicke had said as much to Alex, leaning over the door, waiting for his name to be called. Alex’s eyes on his as intense as they always were, the look in them so blatant a part of Nicke was wincing, but the larger part that never was able to resist Alexander Ovechkin was helpless to keep from looking back and preening under the attention.

“Ohhh, yes!” Alex nods, head falling a little further than he’d meant it too, and he pulls it back up with an effort so he can look at Nicke. “Yes! You say -” he trails off into a long string of slurred Russian that makes Nastya’s eyebrows climb.

“Okay, this is all I’m do, I think.” Nastya smiles, shaking her head. “Good night, Sashynka.” She leans in to scent them both, brushing cheeks briefly. “Nicklas, I will see you in the morning?”

“Yes, thank you. Sergei went to sleep right at eight and he ate everything you left and a banana.” Nicke curls a hand over the back of Alex’s neck where he’s attempting to nuzzle his way into Nicke’s chest. “Sasha, enough. Have some manners.”

“You know he goes full wolf when he drink.” Nastya lays an affectionate hand on top of Nicke’s on Ovi’s neck. “Good-night, boys.”

Nicke echoes it, watching her wend her graceful way upstairs to where Nadi and Varvara are doubtless waiting and sighs, shaking Alex’s head back and forth a little by the scruff of the neck like he would if Ovi were fully shifted. “Come on,  _ fårskalle _ . Bed.”

Alex follows his lead willingly enough, licking the inside of his wrist once as Nicke man-handles his clothes off of him. He rouses himself as Nicke tucks him into bed, though, firstly to complain that Nicke has too many clothes on, and then to roll over on his stomach and ask, “We gonna play tonight?”

“Sasha, you’re drunk,” Nicke shakes his head. “You know we don’t scene drunk.”

“They bought me shots,” Alex says, flopping over onto his back. “So many shots. Because I”m best. Best at score goals, best at hockey, best at fuck.”

Nicke says unsympathetically, “Not right now you’re not.” He settles one hip on the side of the bed. “Sit up. Drink this.”

“Backy,” Alex whines, “Nicky, you say I get reward.”

“Yes, before you go out and get so drunk you can’t even get it up.”

“Ugh, fines.” Alex closes his eyes, clearly concentrating far harder than usual as he shifts.

Shifting when you’re drunk is a horrible experience. Wolf metabolisms and alcohol don’t mix well as it is, which is why if you’re a wolf and drinking you just accept you’re going to wake up hungover and need to shift as soon as you can to dispel the lingering effects. You can, however, shift drunk, if you need to sober up in a hurry. You just risk being so overwhelmed by the dizziness and nausea you stumble around in a confused daze before collapsing in a heap and completely forgetting you can shift back to human.

The misery on Ovi’s face is evident, even as a wolf, but he also sticks his nose into Nicke’s crotch and sneezes before he shifts back, so he clearly can’t be too badly off. “Not drunk,” he announces, triumphant.

Nicke smirks at him. “How hungover are you.”

“I’m fine, Nicky, come on; you promise.”

Nicke hums thoughtfully. Ovi pouts at him, which should be ridiculous in a grown man with grey in his hair and eight Rocket Richard trophies, but, well. It’s Ovi, and he has eight Rocket Richard trophies, and Nicke did promise. “On your back, then.”

Alex flops over eagerly, already spreading both arms towards the headboard. Nicke clicks his tongue and brings both arms down, instead, laid over his chest. He reaches into the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulls out the bamboo rope, the coils so soft in his hands they feel like silk clouds. They don’t use it very often - usually both Ovi and Nastya, when she plays with them, prefer the marks that cotton leaves, the hint of a burn if you pull too strongly. But for this, for a reward - the soft red is perfect. He goes to work methodically, looping the rope three times around Ovi’s hips, carefully avoiding his cock, already hard, and leaving a small loop at the top. He does a diamond tie all the way down his legs, running his hands over the insides of Alex’s thighs more than is strictly necessary, but by the hitches in Ovi’s breathing he’s not exactly complaining.

He goes more slowly still as he makes his way up Sasha’s body, touching his mouth to every patch of skin before he covers it with rope. The sight of Sasha’s muscles straining to follow his mouth as it lifts up only to relax back into the embrace of the rope, becoming more and more languid with every inch wrapped and tied and tightened around him.

“Nicke,” Sasha says, the sighed version of Nicke’s name making it clear he’s already dropped into subspace. “Nicke.”

“What, Sasha?” Nicke asks, amused. “You okay?”

“Yes, good. настолько хорошо.”

“Good. Almost done, okay?”

He brings the last length of rope behind both of Sasha’s arms and then up behind his shoulders, around in front of his neck, where he ties it first with a slip knot and then with a bow, because he can. “Beautiful, Sasha,” he murmurs. “Look so good like this, for me. You so good for everyone else all the time, so good at scoring goals. So beautiful like this just for me. Mister Rocket,” he says, gently teasing.

Sasha’s face scrunches up. “Noooo, Nicke.”

“No? Okay, I save for tomorrow.” Nicke leans in, kissing the tip of Sasha’s nose and then hovering over his mouth. “Think you deserve kisses, maybe? Or maybe there’s somewhere else you want my mouth?” The hand not bracing himself up creeps down to handle Sasha’s balls, hot in his hand. Sasha moans, eyes on Nicke’s like he can’t look away, but he licks his lips, says, “Kiss, please,” even as his hips are straining for Nicke’s hand.

“Good boy,” Nicke says, please. “Good, Sashynka.” He closes the distance, lets himself tuck himself into Sasha’s mouth like a bird tucks its head under a wing and waits until morning. It might be morning by the time he surfaces, Sasha’s mouth red and wet and bitten and he moans when Nicke pulls away, even though he’s been hard - since the second Nicke brought out the rope, probably. 

“Easy, easy.” Nicke runs a soothing hand down Sasha’s chest, bumping over the taut rope and settling with his hand just above Sasha’s weeping cock. “Reward, yes? For being so good. You get to pick, Sasha. How you want to come?”

“I want - inside you, please, Nicke, fuck.” Sasha already looks as ravished as if he himself is the one being fucked.

Nicke half smiles, even though Sasha isn’t looking at him. He strips out of his shirt and kicks off his shorts, graceless like all of them strip. None of them have any patience for a strip-tease, even in private, too used to the efficiency of the locker room. He’s had a plug in him for the past - he checks the stupidly ornate clock on the wall - four hours. Even if Sasha hadn’t wanted to fuck him he knows where the good toys are, and two days without practice or a game is enough time to let himself feel it.

When he turns around to grab the lube, Sasha’s breath chokes off into a sob. “Nicke, you -  _ fuck _ , fuck, Nicke, Пожалуйста, я тебя люблю, please, fuck me.”

“I thought you wanted me?” Nicke says, because he knows exactly what Sasha means, but him so incoherent makes his wolf in his chest that tears at him during scenes like this shake itself happily and pant. He pulls the plug out and knee-walks his way up until he’s braced over Sasha’s cock.

“Fuck you, you know what I want.” 

“Change mind so fast, Sasha,” Nicke teases, circling a finger around his rim and slicking Sasha with the other. “You can come whenever you like, but I’m still gonna get off too,” he warns, and takes Sasha all at once.

Sasha shouts, hoarse, and his entire body convulses as much as it can within the constraints of his bondage.

Nicke smiles and lifts himself up, dropping down again just as swiftly as before. Hockey asses are legendary for a reason, but there's something to be said for hockey thighs too and he puts his to good use working himself on Sasha's dick.

Sasha lasts only a few minutes before he’s coming with a gasp that sounds more like he’s dying than finding release and the likeness only increases as Nicke keeps his word and stays exactly where he is despite the pained groan. Bound as he is, there’s nothing Sasha can do to get Nicke off of his over-sensitive cock, and for a brief instant Nicke contemplates staying where he is until Sasha is hard again and working him to another orgasm without respite, but he relents when he remembers this is supposed to be a reward and gives himself only a handful more strokes before he’s coming into his own hand. He lets Sasha’s soft cock slip out of him, slipping the plug back into himself in lieu of cleaning himself up and instead crawls his way up Sasha’s body to reach his mouth. He kisses him, first, and then when Sasha chases his mouth slips his messy fingers in instead.

Sasha hums in contentment, ridiculous man that he is, and cleans them with leisurely swipes of his tongue. 

“Okay?” Nicke asks, quietly.

“Good.” Sasha says again, eyes half-lidded and sleepy but no longer blown wide with lust or subspace.

“Okay.” Nicke slowly takes off the ropes, checking all Alex’s limbs for full rotation and rubbing down his arms and legs before he pulls the covers down and bundles Alex underneath them, sliding in next to him after he puts the rope and lube away. His plug he can leave until the morning.

(This proves to be a good decision, since Ovi isn’t awake more than five minutes before he’s rolling Nicke over and sliding back in, using his world-famous legs to get so deep it makes Nicke feel like he needs to bite something, hard. But as soon as Ovi’s finished he slides down and eats Nicke out until he comes, so. All is fair in love and orgasms.)


End file.
